Another Notch In His Belt
by The Mouse Avenger
Summary: Mouses Fiennes is having trouble interrogating a particularly-stubborn victim who has become involved in his latest money-laundering scheme. How far will Mouses have to go to get her to talk? OC-centric; trigger warnings are included in the author's notes. Read & review, but no flames, please!


**ANOTHER NOTCH IN HIS BELT**  
A " _Great Mouse Detective_ " Ficlet By The Mouse Avenger

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello again, dearest friends, fans, & fellow GMD lovers! In addition to the latest chapter of GMD 2, I have a couple of surprise GMD one-shots that I just finished, & am now uploading to this website for your reading pleasure! This is the second of these one-shots, featuring my fanfic villain Mouses Fiennes. This fanfic is a character piece studying Mouses Fiennes as he deals with one of his victims. Now, before I continue, I just want to warn readers that there will be various forms of torture (including sexual assault) involved in the action of the story. If you can't handle these things, I suggest you not read any further. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story (if you can call a story like this "enjoyable"...Wow, that came out wrong!).

When you're finished reading, feel free to leave a review. I'll take anything from simple comments to constructive criticism, as long as they're not flames or written in a mean, stern, or overly-harsh manner.

And, now, for a brief copyright & disclaimer...  
All " _Great Mouse Detective_ " characters, elements, & properties © Walt Disney Studios.  
All original characters, elements, & properties © The Mouse Avenger (that's me). Please be sure to ask for my permission before using them in your stories or role-playings. Thanks very much in advance.

And now that my copyright & disclaimer is finished, let the fanfiction begin! Happy reading!

* * *

Mouses Fiennes sighed as he took another drag of his perfumed cigarette. He was waiting patiently for his thugs to finish "talking" with their latest kidnapping victim, but at the same time, he felt incredibly bored. Every so often, Mouses checked the time on his pocket watch, praying the minutes would tick by faster so he could get a progress report from his minions. Finally, Mouses' wish came true when one of his higher-level thugs, Gunsmoke Gary, came into the barrel-throne room to tell his master, "Hey, Mouses, we've tried everything we could, & we still can't get Mrs. Pickford to tell us where her husband's been hiding the money from our laundering scheme. If we don't get the necessary information soon, that backstabbing bastard's gonna screw us over big-time!"

"Well, then," Mouses replied airily as he rose from his chair, "I suppose we'll have to resort to alternative methods of persuasion." Following Gunsmoke Gary to the barrel where Mrs. Pickford was being held prisoner, Mouses saw each of his other employees pass him by as they exited the makeshift cell, wishing him luck in his endeavors to pry the information out of their hostage. Upon entering the prison barrel, Mouses made his request to be left alone, & Gunsmoke Gary shut the door behind him, leaving the Master Of Evil alone with his prey.

Calmly strolling over to Mrs. Pickford, Mouses knelt down to face the mouse woman at her level, & took her chin in his jeweled fingers, lifting her head up so that their gazes met. "Ah, Mrs. Pickford," Mouses purred pleasantly, "how delightful to see you again. I hear you haven't been very cooperative with my minions...is that so?"

Mrs. Pickford did not say anything in response, but gave an icy glare at Mouses. Her facade of defiance was not fool-proof, however, for Mouses could see the light in her eyes dancing fearfully as her body shook ever-so-slightly. Mouses quickly picked up on this chink in her proverbial armor, & he leapt at the opportunity to expose her vulnerability. "Are you afraid of me, Mrs. Pickford?" Mouses asked.

"No..." the victim replied, trying not to lose her air of bravado.

"Mrs. Pickford," Mouses retorted with a "playful" chuckle, " _everyone_ is afraid of me..." Leaning in closer to her, Mouses whispered, "And you're no exception." Unable to hide the wicked grin forming on his face, Mouses struck out at Mrs. Pickford with his unsheathed claws, making deep cuts that soon oozed with scarlet blood. The sight of the life-giving liquid trickling down Mrs. Pickford's flesh, struck a deep, pleasurable nerve in Mouses. Within seconds, the sewer-dwelling shark went into a felonious feeding frenzy,  & he planned to enjoy every second of it before he left Mrs. Pickford's presence.

"If there's anything you wish to tell me," Mouses told his victim with a smirk, "I highly suggest you do it now. Further failure to cooperate will result in severe punishment."

"I'd rather be tortured than tell you where my husband's money is!" Mrs. Pickford cried furiously.

Mouses' smirk widened from ear to ear. The game he wished to play with his prey suddenly got a whole lot easier! "You've asked for it, my dear, & you've got it," the criminal mousetermind said in a sing-song manner. With that, he grabbed Mrs. Pickford, & dragged her over to one of the many torture devices that were in the prison cell. This instrument was a triangular device with one end of the triangle pointing upward, mounted on a sawhorse-like support. "Get on it," Mouses directed Mrs. Pickford.

The torture device looked so simplistic in design, it hardly seemed like a threat to Mrs. Pickford, & she laughed in Mouses' face. "Well, if you insist," the lady chortled, going over to sit astride the strange triangular object. Mrs. Pickford's amusement quickly turned to anxiety, however, when Mouses moved to tie her paws behind her back, & strap a heavy weight to each of her feet. Within seconds, Mrs. Pickford began to feel a sharp, stinging pain between her legs, as the weights on her feet made her sink further & further down onto the "wooden horse". With each passing moment, the pressure on her crotch intensified, & she found it increasingly hard to endure the painful sensation in her nether regions. Nevertheless, Mrs. Pickford remained perfectly calm, & did not say anything.

Surprised that Mrs. Pickford wasn't crying out for mercy already, Mouses let out a miffed sigh, then untied Mrs. Pickford's paws & feet, before bringing her back down onto the floor. "Perhaps, the wooden horse wasn't the best choice to start with," Mouses mused. "Ah, well, no matter! I have many other ways of making you talk..." Mouses then led Mrs. Pickford over to one of his other instruments of torture-the thumbscrew. Mouses roughly grabbed Mrs. Pickford's paws, & placed them so that her fingers were resting between the vice's two bars. With a turn of the screw in the middle of the machine, the upper bar came down upon Mrs. Pickford's fingers, crushing them to a pulp. Mrs. Pickford's bones let out a sickening crack as they succumbed to the pressure of the thumbscrew, & the skin underneath her fur turned an ugly shade of red as it swelled & throbbed. A burning sensation of pain swept through the hands of Mouses' victim, & Mrs. Pickford could feel her eyes watering as she winced with agony. Yet again, to Mouses' surprise, the woman remained silent.

"Forget this," Mouses snapped, loosening the thumbscrew to let Mrs. Pickford take her wounded paws out. "I have a much better idea!" Mouses subsequently brought Mrs. Pickford over to another one of his torture devices-the breaking wheel. The breaking wheel was a large wooden wagon wheel with many radial spokes. Mouses tied Mrs. Pickford to the wheel, doing it in such a way that her limbs would pass over the gaps between the spokes. Then, Mouses grabbed a nearby club, & began to beat Mrs. Pickford with it, striking her arms & legs as fiercely & forcefully as he could. The gaps in the wheel allowed Mrs. Pickford's limbs to gradually gave way, & with the unsightly bending & breaking of bones came stomach-turning sounds of cracking & crunching, followed by a searing sensation of unbearable pain. Every single nerve in her body, felt as though it were on fire, & whenever she flinched in anticipation of the brutal blows from Mouses' club, her agony only intensified. Still, she had made a promise to her husband to not reveal the location of his hidden money, & she intended to keep said promise by all means necessary.

Once again, Mouses saw that Mrs. Pickford was not making a single, solitary sound, & he gave up with this method of torture. Angrily tossing the club aside, Mouses untied his hostage from the breaking wheel, & helped her onto her feet. No sooner did this happen, than Mrs. Pickford collapsed onto her paws & knees, unable to withstand the great discomfort her body was going through. "Oh, what's the matter, my dear?" Mouses asked in a syrupy voice, his every word oozing with feigned sympathy. "Does it hurt to stand up?" Mrs. Pickford simply nodded in reply. "Well," Mouses proclaimed, "I think you'll find it much more comfortable to lie down on this nice table..." Eager to receive some relief from all the horror she had endured, Mrs. Pickford allowed Mouses to escort her to a long piece of furniture that looked like a massage table. With some "help" from Mouses, Mrs. Pickford carefully made her way onto the table, & lay down flat on her back. The poor woman naively thought that Mouses would actually be kind enough to ease her suffering, but she was in for a rude awakening!

Mrs. Pickford gasped when she saw Mouses binding her wrists & ankles in leather restraints that were attached to the table, & she fidgeted fearfully, dreading what Mouses was planning to do to her next. "W-W-What are you going to do?" Mrs. Pickford quivered.

"Don't worry," Mouses cooed tauntingly. "You're _really_ going to enjoy this..." Mouses then took out an old-fashioned crank telephone,  & laid it down on a small platform beside the table. The telephone's electric generator was wired in sequence to two dry battery cells, each of which was situated at the end of either cable. Mouses wrapped the "ground wire" around Mrs. Pickford's big toe, then dug underneath his victim's skirts, moved aside her fancy undergarments, & applied the "hot wire" to her genital region. After readjusting Mrs. Pickford's clothes, Mouses proceeded to turn the crank on the telephone, sending an intense electric current into Mrs. Pickford's body. Oh, how Mrs. Pickford did her best to put up with the agonizing feeling of pain that followed! This was definitely the worst form of torture she had experienced thus far, & the level of agony she was enduring was living proof of that. All the while, Mouses kept cranking the old-fashioned telephone, continuing to apply the torturous current to Mrs. Pickford's body. "Have you had enough, Mrs. Pickford?" Mouses asked mockingly. "Are you going to talk, or shall we keep playing this lovely little game?"

"This is the worst you can do?" Mrs. Pickford struggled to taunt, grimacing through the overwhelming pain that wracked each & every nerve in her body. "Come on, Mouses! Show me what else you've got!"

"Very well, then," Mouses sighed, ceasing his cranking of the telephone. Mrs. Pickford sighed deeply when she felt the electric current stop flowing through her! It was a great relief to no longer feel that terrible pain, & she reveled in each second of this freedom...until Mouses helped her back down onto the floor, & the earlier agony of her broken bones came back in full force. Wincing with effort, Mrs. Pickford followed Mouses to the next torture device that he planned to use-the rack. Remembering what she had heard about the rack from her school lessons about medieval history, Mrs. Pickford shuddered, & dreaded what would happen to her when Mouses put her on the machine. Nevertheless, she remembered her promise to her husband, & was determined to keep that vow for as long as she could-preferably forever.

Upon bringing Mrs. Pickford over to the rack, Mouses placed his hostage on the rectangular wooden frame, & fastened her wrists & ankles to the large rollers at each end of the device. Mouses then grabbed a nearby set of pulleys & levers, & used them to rotate the rollers on their respective axes. The ropes binding Mrs. Pickford's appendages, gradually strained & strained...& Mrs. Pickford could feel her body stretching & stretching, until her shoulder & hip joints finally dislocated with a sickening pop. As if her broken bones weren't already in enough pain, Mrs. Pickford felt her physical agony in those areas intensify, not to mention everywhere else. Meanwhile, Mouses continued to turn the rollers around, watching his victim's body stretching further & further upon the rack...but his sadistic glee gradually turned to anger when he saw Mrs. Pickford do nothing else but grunt, grimace, & grit her teeth-without even begging for release, let alone telling him where that infernal money was!

"Damn you, you blasted bitch!" Mouses swore in exasperation, moving away from the controls to rip off Mrs. Pickford's restraints, & rudely shoving her onto the floor. "What do I have to do to finally make you talk? How much more can you possibly fucking endure?!" In a rage, Mouses reached for a nearby whip, & grabbed it, before using it to strike at Mrs. Pickford. The poor, terrified woman curled up in a protective ball, & tried to shield herself from her captor's angry blows, but to no avail. With increasing ire, Mouses whipped Mrs. Pickford harder & harder, to the point where he broke the skin underneath Mrs. Pickford's fur, & drew blood with every hit. All the while, he shouted furiously, "Tell me! Tell me where your goddamn husband is hiding my money!"

"I don't think so," Mrs. Pickford retorted defiantly, gradually becoming used to the pain coursing through her body. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that! You can't make me feel worse than I already do!"

At that point, an idea occurred to Mouses. The criminal immediately stopped whipping Mrs. Pickford, before putting a clawed forefinger to his chin, & stroking it thoughtfully as he mused, "Perhaps not with physical torture...but with mental torment, the possibilities are infinite!" A wicked smile appeared on Mouses' face once again, & with newfound joy, he cackled & tossed his whip aside. Mouses then helped Mrs. Pickford onto her feet, & led her back over to the table where he had tortured her with the Tucker telephone. As he bound Mrs. Pickford to the table with the leather restraints, Mouses purred evilly, "Don't think you're getting off the hook that easily, my dear. The real fun's just beginning!" After making sure that Mrs. Pickford was properly fastened in place, Mouses blindfolded her with a piece of dark-colored cloth, then withdrew his favorite silk handkerchief from his jacket-breast pocket, & placed it on Mrs. Pickford's face. Then, Mouses grabbed a cup from an adjacent table, & filled it with water from a nearby barrel, before pouring the container's contents onto the pawkerchief covering Mrs. Pickford's head.

Within seconds, Mrs. Pickford felt herself gasping & choking for air, as the wet cloth stuck to her mouth & nostrils. She felt as though she were being dunked in the Thames River, & being held down beneath the surface of the water. The blindfold over her eyes, only made her experience more terrifying. Each time Mouses poured water on the handkerchief, the fabric stuck more tightly to Mrs. Pickford's face, making it harder & harder for her to breathe. All throughout her struggle to endure this horrible form of torture, Mrs. Pickford did her best to get air into her lungs, her stifling sensation of drowning & dread only growing by the minute. Just when Mrs. Pickford was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, Mouses finally stopped pouring water on her, & removed the damp handkerchief from her face. Mrs. Pickford immediately began to take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself down with each intake of air into her lungs. What an ordeal she had gone through during that waterboarding session! How it had scarred her psyche so...

Mouses, of course, was relishing the pain & suffering he was putting Mrs. Pickford through, & he didn't even bother to hide it. "So, how close are you to giving in now?" Mouses asked teasingly.

"Not close enough!" Mrs. Pickford spat scornfully. "You'll never hear a single word from me until I..." Mrs. Pickford suddenly cried out in pain when Mouses roughly backhanded her. He hit her so hard, his rings made indentations on her flesh! Mrs. Pickford quickly moved to nurse her latest injury, & tried to keep her mind off of her emotional trauma by focusing on that simple task. Mouses took this opportunity to pick up a nearby metal pipe, & strike Mrs. Pickford's knees with it, hitting them with enough force to nearly shatter them! Mrs. Pickford squirmed & struggled around in her restraints, desperately trying to break free, but to no avail. With her physical agony at an all-time high, Mrs. Pickford soon found it difficult to even move just her head, & she collapsed onto the table in exhaustion. Her mental resolve, however, never wavered.

"Apart from nearly killing you," Mouses said, "I can only think of one way to get you to finally talk..." And, oh, how Mouses' face lit up with evil joy when he thought about his final plans for Mrs. Pickford! "You know, it would be such a shame if your loving husband heard that you were running around on him..."

"Never!" Mrs. Pickford cried, aghast. "I would never be unfaithful to Martin!"

"I can certainly make it look that way," Mouses cooed cruelly, undoing the leather straps that bound Mrs. Pickford to the table. "All I have to do is touch you once, & I can throw your entire world as you know it into utter, glorious chaos."

"You wouldn't dare..." Mrs. Pickford hissed.

"Try me!" Mouses retorted. Without warning, Mouses flipped Mrs. Pickford over on her stomach, & crawled on top of her. Now, Mrs. Pickford was terrified beyond belief, & she quivered & quaked with great anxiety. "I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me everything," Mouses whispered, wantonly caressing Mrs. Pickford's body with his nimble, clawed fingers. "If I were you, I'd confess..."

"Go to hell, you bastard!" Mrs. Pickford snarled in response.

"Well, it appears we must play this game the hard way...If that's what it takes to get you to talk, then so be it!" Mouses stated casually. At this point, he proceeded to unfasten his trousers, before hiking up Mrs. Pickford's dress & petticoats, & ripping off her undergarments. Mouses then rubbed his hands over Mrs. Pickford's private flesh, gleefully exploring her exposed sex for several minutes. Finally, Mouses parted Mrs. Pickford's nether lips, & nudged his aroused member into her womanhood. Slowly, but roughly, the criminal entered his victim, shuddering in wicked bliss with every thrust. As Mouses was doing all this, Mrs. Pickford cried & sobbed her poor heart out, vainly pleading for mercy. "Come, come, my dear," Mouses purred cruelly as he "sensually" massaged & caressed Mrs. Pickford from head to toe, "don't be so tense. Just relax...Relax..."

Mouses, of course, made it impossible for Mrs. Pickford to do that, given what a horrible ordeal he was making her go through. And Mouses was relishing every second of it. All throughout Mrs. Pickford's rape, Mouses did everything he could to make the experience more painful for her, & more pleasurable for him. He clawed at her skin to the point where he made deep gashes that oozed with blood. He nibbled at her neck so hard, he left teeth marks on her flesh. He kissed, licked, & nursed her breasts, suckling her to the point where her nipples became sore & achy. He bit her ear, & clamped down on it as he gave it sharp, painful tugs. He pulled at her hair quite hard, occasionally even tearing out fistfuls of those dark-colored tresses. He slapped, punched, & beat her until she was visibly bruised & battered. He called her all sorts of vile, terrible names that no one should ever say to a woman (or anyone, for that matter). And all the while, Mouses never stopped forcing his way into Mrs. Pickford, his thrusts becoming harder & more painful each time.

"Mmmm...I must say, I'm quite enjoying this," Mouses moaned, drowning himself in the evil ecstasy he got from hurting Mrs. Pickford in every possible form & fashion. "I suppose you are, too, since you're no longer resisting me. Have you given up the fight already? What a shame...I quite admired your feisty spirit. Ah, well, no matter..."

For several long & agonizing minutes, Mouses continued to have his way with Mrs. Pickford, not ceasing his torment of the unfortunate woman who had become his plaything. Finally, Mouses reached his peak, & he came inside of Mrs. Pickford with a satisfied snarl. While Mouses took a few moments to catch his breath, Mrs. Pickford cried & cried, feeling terrible inside & out. How she had been so cruelly violated! How she missed her husband, & longed to be back in the safety of his warm embrace, with her children crowded lovingly around her legs! By now, Mrs. Pickford could no longer keep up this game anymore. The only way that she could guarantee her safety & well-being, was by giving into Mouses' demands. "All right," Mrs. Pickford relented with a sob. "I'll tell you where the money is..."

"Good," Mouses purred pleasantly, petting Mrs. Pickford's face & hair. "Good..."

And as he listened to every word that Mrs. Pickford had to say, Mouses felt his happiness grow & grow. Just as he had hoped, he had broken Mrs. Pickford's body, mind, & soul. He had another notch to put in his belt...another victim to add to his list of villainous victories.

THE END


End file.
